


all this stardust is giving me an asthma attack

by Ellinor



Category: Wizard101
Genre: Gen, I mentioned Pirate101 for like 1 paragraph, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Stars, Wizards, its so hard to tag for these short fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellinor/pseuds/Ellinor
Summary: People always want what they don't have.And wizards? They want the stars.





	all this stardust is giving me an asthma attack

**Author's Note:**

> hey! here's another drabble from my wizard101 blog, @save-the-spiral. I distinctly remember writing this because I was at school and Tumblr mobile decided to delete it like 3 times.

Wizards have wanderlusted after the stars for as long as they’ve been able to look up, to want rather than need.

They’ve dreamed of the stars.

They see those glittering jewels in the sky, brilliant and unobtainable and so far away. They see the sparkling eyes of past lovers, they see the tales told to them as children, monsters and heroes galavanting across the heavens.

They see something they want, and those wizards, well, their avarice for the unknown knows no bounds. The ancient power in their magic-infused souls leads them to believe that they should have power over things. Of course, these magic wielders aren’t known for brute forcing their way to their goals.

(Not usually.)

They write the stars love songs, love poems, love stories.

The stars don’t deign to reply.

This frustrates the wizards, infuriates them.

How dare the stars? How dare they ignore the wizards, when they know the wonder of magic, of creatures the stars couldn’t even dream of?

The stars don’t dream of wizards, yet the opposite is truer than many want to admit.

Wizards yearn for stars even in their sleep. They dream of touching the stars, of returning from whence they came, all of the stardust and ashes and teeth and blood. They stare up at the stars, jaw tensed, yet a husky “Mine.” escapes their throat, the hiss similar to the cracking of their irises, eyes brimming with liquid glass.

These wizards have tried to touch the stars before. Oh, they tried. They scavenged for answers in every discipline of magic, then used them to fly. They flied, alright. They soared. But then they went to high, their lungs were screaming and they were screaming and they were falling-

Yes, they’ve tried to touch the stars.

Then, the wizards from Earth came. They told the wizards of how they sung the night sky’s praises, and the sky only blushed great strokes of galaxies and allowed safe travels. They spoke of their ability to fly through space, assisted by machines only the best of them could understand. They dismissed it as ‘old news’, flippant waves of the hand and all. Yet still, they see no point on pondering after the stars, after planets and moons and all things so glorious yet so far away.

Who would want to do such a thankless job, usually unrecognized work even with all that effort?

They also spoke of the stars’ impossibility. Of long dead light that wishes are made upon, how no one can touch the untouchable. They explain this as if to a child, as if it is to someone who is willfully ignorant of these boring, clinical truths.

How dare they, these wizards from a land so unimportant as to never have a mass produced key for the Spiral Door? How dare they say such things? They know not what they speak, these star-dismissive heretics.

The wizards will reach for the stars still. They will lie on their backs, in grass, sand, or even atop roofs. They will lie there and reach their arm to its full potential, trying to encompass the entirety of the sky in one greedy palm.

The pirates, however. Pirates grin, splashing and smiling and sailing through the vast ocean of space, taking to it like a fish to water. With only their trusty vessels and handy companions as witness, they sail from world to world, yet still experience the majesty of the stars in passing, a normality in it’s wonder.

The stars are a cruel and cold mistress. To become infatuated is dangerous, given how many people fall.


End file.
